


The Road Home

by miss_eee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Just a little bit of Angst, Mutual Pining, Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe, Post-High School, Road Trips, not quite canon, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_eee/pseuds/miss_eee
Summary: The story of two best friends, the secrets they keep, and the road that leads them back together





	1. Chapter 1

His body felt tired and achy from a long day on his motorcycle, but he was too close to stop. He just wanted to be home. The familiar stale smell of old beer and cigarettes, the worn out floral couch, the faded lace curtains in the window- it wasn’t much, it never had been. Sometimes, it had felt like only a warm place to sleep, but it was home.

His body followed the curve of the road & his bike twisted and winded, taking him closer and closer to the floral couch that was calling his name. He felt like he was on autopilot, feeling a rush run over him when the curvy mountain road gave way to the straight highway, lined with tall evergreens- signaling that he was  _ almost _ there.

The tall, thick trees gave way to the small town that had once held everything he’d ever known and he knew if he closed his eyes, he’d still find his way home. He rode past the downtown business district, past the high school he had attended and past the park he had played in as a child. Had it really been three years since he’d been back here?

A shift in the air brought a smell he’d never forgotten. Fresh french-fries, a burger with the works, a chocolate milkshake. His eyes darted up from the road, but he’d already known it was there. The bright lights of the diner were calling to him like a beacon, guiding his way home.

He hesitated, just for a moment contemplating continuing past and coming back to pay his homage in the morning over a stack of pancakes. The rumble of his stomach could be heard over the rumble of his bike and he remembered he hadn’t ate since he’d stopped outside of Trenton, and that had been well over five hours ago. He could spare an hour-  it was late and his dad was probably already asleep.

The familiar ring of the bell over the doorway, the red and silver leather lined booths, even the white speckled formica countertops. Everything was still the same, untouched by the passage of time. Sure, three years wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of life, but this place felt like a time capsule from the 1950’s- preserved to remind you of a simpler time and a simpler life. He’d sat in diners just like this all across the country, all serving the same menu- burgers and malt milkshakes, and he supposed they all smelled the same, that the food all tasted the same- how different could a burger and fries really be. But this place... this place held memories that every other diner didn’t.

_ Three small friends, feet dangling over the edge of the booth, celebratory milkshakes on the last day of elementary school. _

_ One vanilla & one strawberry- spending all the money he’d earned mowing Mr. Blanchard’s yard to treat his little sister to a milkshake. _

_ Four friends this time, hashing out plans for a weekend getaway to a lodge in the woods over a burger and milkshakes. _

_ A blonde girl snuggled into his side, her ponytail flopped onto his shoulder, the red lights of the diner casting shadows across her face.  _

Maybe that was what had been keeping him from this place, from making his pilgrimage home sooner.  _ That blonde ponytail _ . The girl that he would forever claim as his best friend, even when the months were long between their catch up’s - she was still the person he called & the one he thought of. She had only ever seen him as the friend, but she had always been so much more to him, that girl that he’d longed for every moment since she had first came into his life.

For 18 years she had stood by his side, been his guiding light in the darkness that was his world, until he had loaded up his motorcycle one day and left her behind. Given-she had ridden off in a black town car in the opposite direction, destined for the bright lights of New York City and all of its glory. They kept in touch in the way most modern friendships do- via social media posts, the occasional phone call or text message meme.

He saw her everywhere he went. Every blonde he passed at a stop light, made him look twice. Every time he saw a pastel colored sweater or a pair of white Converse, he stopped. He saw her in the wildflowers that grew alongside the open roads- wild and free and so beautiful. She haunted his reality in the same way she haunted his dreams- always there, always right there.

His eyes were hazy, his body felt heavy as he sank further into the booth seat. There was a flicker behind the counter, at the coffee machine- a flicker of blonde. His eyes struggled to adjust to the sight before him, taking in the high ponytail in her signature shade. 

It couldn't be though, could it? He thought back to an Instagram notification that'd been waiting for him when he stopped for lunch - a brunette girl with her arm linked with his blonde haired girl, tagged #girlsnightout and #NYC. If she was there now, how could she be here too? 

He watched her, for a moment, waiting for a movement he didn’t recognize, something, anything to tell him that this was not the girl he had left - that that girl was currently out gallivanting in New York City. But there was something in her, in the lightness in the way she moved, slightly swaying to the hum of an old rock song, her ponytail swishing with the movement of her body. No. It couldn’t be. His voice betrayed his brain, calling out a long-ago penned nickname, “Bets.”

 

* * *

 

 

She could feel a migraine coming on and glanced at the clock behind the counter. Only an hour left. She contemplated asking Pop to let her go early, but those that came and ate this late at night usually tipped well and she could use the money.

Her body felt drained from the emotional start to her day, followed by a double shift at the diner. Just another hour & she could curl into the pink and white sheets of her childhood bedroom, hoping that in her dreams she found momentary peace.

Her mind wandered back to her morning, sitting with her mother in that white sterile doctor’s office, listening to him rattle on and on about her diagnosis, the word “remission” sounding quiet, like it was miles away. The grip her mother held on her hand had tightened, tears of joy falling from her face. But in that moment - in that moment of what should have been pure happiness after years of struggle - all she could think of was the electricity bill that sat on the counter with the red, bold letters OVERDUE stamped across it & how the last three dollars in her bank account needed to somehow pay for the car note, hospital payments and this week’s groceries.

Three years ago, everything was so much simpler. She was the town’s golden girl, her family was idolized until her father was revealed to be the town’s resident serial killer. Her mother had pushed through, filing for divorce & keeping her head held high for her and her two daughters. Her mother had squeezed her hand and told her how proud of her she was as she helped her unpack her boxes into the small dorm at NYU that she would share with her high school best friend. Everything had seemed so full of promise and hope, something she'd thought she'd lost in the midst of her dad's trial. She wanted to study journalism like her mother, but she had dreams far bigger than a small-town newspaper. She wanted her name in a glossy print, spread out all over the world.

But then, two weeks into the second semester of her freshman year, her mother had called her. What had started as monthly trips home, quickly became twice a month, then every weekend and then during the week trips. Each week, she was needed to drive her mother to doctor’s appointments, to the hospital, to chemotherapy for hours on end. That dream she had, all those promises and hopes she had, came crashing down upon her. Before the semester was over, she’d made the transition to completing her classes online, and found herself back in her childhood bedroom.

It wasn’t that growing up here had been awful- it had been ideal, that picture perfect American small-town you see on the TV. Nothing ever happened and the gossip that tends to follow small towns was suffocating. New York had been a breath of fresh air for her, but coming back here she felt stifled and lost.

Outside of the diner, the familiar rumble of a motorcycle reminded her that growing up here hadn’t always been awful and suffocating, as it often felt now. She had survived then only barely due to a dark-haired, crown-beanie wearing boy, who had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. But he was so much more than  _ just _ her best friend. He was the standard that she measured every other boy to. Every date she went on, he was in the back of her mind. She heard his voice always in her head, his quick-witted responses, his sarcastic front. No boy had ever stood a chance compared to him and even though it had been years since she’d seen him, he was still the only boy she ever saw.

That same day that she had left to move to New York, he’d left out on his own adventure, his black motorcycle loaded down with a camera and the barest of necessities. Every few months, he would call or she would send him a meme, the friendship they had forged years ago holding her together on the worst days.

Caught in her memories, she hadn’t registered the chime of the door as a patron entered the diner; her back stayed turned, wiping the counter again in the same place. An old grunge rock song came on, softly spilling over the speakers and she found herself getting lost in the moment, swaying her body as she hummed along.

She hadn’t heard it at first, the soft voice that broke through the barrier her brain had put up.

“Bets.” It came out as a question, a nickname she hadn’t heard in years.

“Betty?” Her stomach dropped, knowing what she would see when she turned around. Her body leaned back against the counter, her palms gripping the formica top, holding on to the only thing she could to keep her from falling.

There, in the only occupied booth of the empty diner, sat a boy in a black leather jacket and a gray crown beanie struggling to hold back his dark brown waves. Steel grey eyes found hers and she felt her knees sink. 

Jughead Jones was back in Riverdale.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can feel her heart racing and her hands shaking as she turns back around, facing away from him. Anything to avoid having to take in the look of confusion that she knows will be on his face. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tries to steady her breathing- just one more moment before she faces the truth. She reaches for the coffee pot, but he’s there when she turns around again- right there in front of her, standing on the other side of the counter.

She can feel her heart racing and her hands shaking as she turns back around, facing away from him. Anything to avoid having to take in the look of confusion that she knows will be on his face. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tries to steady her breathing- just one more moment before she faces the truth. She reaches for the coffee pot, but he’s there when she turns around again- right there in front of her, standing on the other side of the counter.

He looks different. There’s stubble scattered across his face, his inky dark hair falling longer in his eyes than she remembered. Three years. Had it really been that long since he’d stood so close to her? His grey eyes are still the same- stormy and sparkling at the same time. She can tell he wants to say something, but she slides a coffee mug down in front of him as he settles onto the barstool. Her hands are shaking again and the coffee spills across the countertop as her eyes dart up to meet his. She hadn’t meant it to ever be like this; he wasn’t supposed to find out about her.

She feels that rush of embarrassment and failure that seem to follow her around as his eyes graze over her. He’s begging her, silently, to tell him why she’s here, why she’s here in this place right now. Social media is a terrible thing- in that it had allowed her to feed him lies and she knows she’s been caught.

She had never meant it to be hurtful, not in the way he’s looking at her now. By a stroke of fate, he had called her on the same day she found out her mother was sick and the words had fallen out of her mouth.

_ Everything’s fine. Things are great here! I really like my classes this semester. Veronica says to tell you hello. I can’t believe you’re in Colorado, I’ve always wanted to go out west. _

Lies. Her world was crumbling around her, and for that one single moment in her life, she needed normalcy- she needed him. But could she really rob him of his happiness, when hers had just been so unceremoniously pulled out from underneath her? Lies.

She’d made it her little secret- pulling in Veronica or Kevin or even Cheryl when she needed to make it more believable. What had originally been a moment of peace and calm, had catapulted into this big elaborate lie that she had kept telling- over and over again.

_ Everything’s fine here! My internship is going great, I’m learning so much, and I’m publishing a small article this month on Adderall use among college students. Veronica says she’s doing okay, but I know she’s having a hard time after her breakup with Archie. No, he told you that? He told her he didn’t want to hold her back, that he wanted her to enjoy college. Are you still going to be in New Orleans for Mardi Gras? _

Like a movie-reel playing at the end of her life, every moment she could have stopped and told him the truth played out in her mind. The first lie had just slipped out, but then it had compounded, again and again until now. Now, he’s standing in front of her, coffee dripping over the edges of the counter. Now, he deserves an explanation, the truth.

She had always held him high above the other boys she’d met, partly because he’d placed her so high up on this pedestal. Through everything- student council elections, editing for the school newspaper- he had revered her in this light, this perfect blonde angel that could do no wrong. And so, she had kept this secret from him, these lies that had led him to believe that she was still that same girl he’d known all those years ago. In his eyes, she was still that perfect girl that she’d been in high school, and she didn’t want him to see her as anything else.

She watched him, still silent sitting across from her as she carried over the plate of burgers and fries that he hadn’t asked for. His shoulders sank as he breathed in the smells, once again his eyes meeting hers. She caught a soft sparkle in his greys, and she felt her stomach twist. He’s her best friend. He always has been, and he always will be. He’s not going to judge her for this or think any less of her. If anything, he’ll probably tease her about the elaborate scheme she plotted just so that he wouldn’t find out that she had- what - moved back to the hometown they’d grown up in? That she wasn’t going to school in New York, even though she was still taking classes online? Some days she felt like everyone else in this town looked down on her- the perfect golden girl who had fallen from grace- but he would never look at her like that.

She remembered their freshman year, when he had first noticed the small, red crescent moons that often graced her hands, and she had explained to him about how she sometimes felt like she was spiraling out of control. How just a few months later, when the whole town found out her sister was pregnant at 17, he had stood by her side- even when the older ladies at Pop’s would whisper that she’d turn out just like her sister.

She leaned her arms across the countertop, snatching a French fry off his plate. Swallowing down the saltiness- his voice cut hers off before she could begin to explain.

“Bets, obviously there’s something you haven’t told me, and I’m sure you have a reason why you thought you needed to keep this from me. But just come sit down, you look like you’ve been on your feet all day…”

 

* * *

 

 

He felt her shoulder brush against his when she sat down on the stool next to him, the briefest whiff of vanilla and peony body lotion. He could see it in her face- the dark circles under her eyes, her pale complexion- something was plaguing her. There was clearly something she had been keeping from him, they’d just spoken on the phone not even two weeks ago. 

He starts talking before she can, anything to keep her here, to keep her calm. He spent his spring doing a series of shoots across the Civil War battlefields as he drove north. There was a parallel, in the way neighbor and friend had fought each other, and the way he had been caught in Riverdale’s own civil war when he was in high school- divided allegiances between the north and south side. He showed her the series of pictures he’d taken last, in a small town in southern Pennsylvania- he’d found something almost romantic in the way these million-year-old rock formations had provided both coverage and a trap for the soldiers.

He tells her about the job he did for Grand Canyon Tourism. How standing on the edge of that great precipice made him feel so small and insignificant- how most of his trip has made him feel so small and insignificant. There’s so much more world out there than Riverdale, and he stops talking when he watches her eyes wince shut, her hands starting to curl into one another.

Like an old habit, he reaches out, pulling her fingers out from her palms, untangling them with his own. He’d first noticed her habit in freshman year, after Cheryl Blossom had made a comment about her being “too fat” for the River Vixens. The marks now are red and angry- small half-moons where the nail has broken the skin. His thumb traces along them, and when he looks up - there’s tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” She pulls her hand away slowly, reaching for the coffee pot to pour them both another cup. There’s a clinking noise when her mug meets the small plate- more coffee splashed across the counter, and he starts to wonder again about what is making her so nervous.

“No, Jug. It’s fine. New York was like that for me too. So full of promise and hope- like I could do anything, be anyone. There, I didn’t feel like I had to be the perfect Betty Cooper that I was in high school, I was just Elizabeth Cooper, formerly of upstate New York…”

“Bets. Why didn’t you tell me you were back in Riverdale?” Her body twisted in the seat, so she was facing him. It was hard to avoid the dark bags under her eyes, the way her ponytail fell loosely over her shoulders, the small ketchup stain on the collar of her shirt. This girl that sat before him- if he hadn’t spent his whole life being in love with her, he wasn’t sure if he’d have recognized her. She was almost a shell of the Betty Cooper he had always known- no longer perfectly polished and put together, but exhausted and broken.

“Listen Jug, it’s late; I’m sure you’re tired from your drive. Why don’t we meet for lunch, and you can explain to me how you drove through New York without saying anything?” Her words come out harsh, but somewhere in there he might have been a hint of playfulness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe a little bit of angst? But angst leads to fluff! 
> 
> Thanks for all of the love for this, it's been stuck in my head for MONTHS!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the softness of her bedroom, her body curled into a ball on top of her thick comforter. Tears streamed down her face, spilling over onto her pillowcase and falling into her hair. He had been her rock, her sense of normalcy amongst all the craziness that had become her life. She had tucked her feelings for him high away on a shelf, long ago. She accepted that the dark-haired boy who traveled the states on the back of a motorcycle, didn’t carry the same feelings she had for him. She felt her body shudder as she tried to even out her breathing. She didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to face the truth.

In true fashion, he arrived before her. After he left the diner the night before, he found his dad passed out cold on the couch. Oddly, the trailer was free of the random beer bottles usually scattered around. He took the bed, old and lumpy with an overused memory foam mattress topper, but sleep eluded him- his thoughts kept trailing back to that blonde ponytail.

 

When he woke, his father was already gone, leaving only a note on the kitchen table simply stating that he’d be back before dinner. Of course- his dad had a life, and he couldn’t expect him to drop everything just because he finally rolled his way back into town. He’d spent his morning taking a long, hot shower- something he often missed when he went weeks only camping in his tent. Two small loads of laundry later, he found himself pacing back and forth across the small trailer. His pictures littered around the trailer- some framed, some pinned up with a push tack or stuck on the fridge with a magnet. Scattered around the trailer were a few pictures of his younger sister- dark waves just like his that fell past her shoulders and the same steel grey eyes. She lived in Toledo with their mother and he was already planning his visit with her after he finished his next job.

 

As he stood in front of the open refrigerator, taking stock of its lack of contents- his stomach rumbled. A quick glance at his watch let him know he still had a few hours until he had to meet her but he couldn’t wait. Settling back onto his bike, he let the road guide him back to the place he’d been the night before.

 

The bell above the door still sounded the same, the red and silver booths still cracked in the same places- but something was different about this place in the light of day. Bright sunlight beamed in through the open window blinds, carrying with it, hope.

 

He spent the next few hours working his way through several mugs of black coffee while he edited the last few pictures from the battlefield. Working as a travel photographer, he planned his work around his location and the weather- summer jobs in the northern states and Canada, winter jobs in the Southern United States. It provided him enough to get by- gas for the bike, food, sometimes a hotel if he was staying in a location for more than a few days. He had thought about selling the bike and upgrading to a van, something that could fit a bed in the back, but there was something freeing about the wind hitting his face as he traveled across the states.

 

He was caught in his own world, going over and over the same set of photos. He missed the sound of the door chiming & hadn’t noticed her until she slid into the booth across from him, until the smell of peonies and vanilla wafted over the table. 

 

* * *

 

 

In the comfort and warmth of her plush pink bedding, she couldn’t find the sleep that she’d been daydreaming about earlier in the evening. Images from earlier flooded his mind; his inky hair falling out from under his beanie, the way the black leather jacket fit snug around his arms, the way his grey eyes danced when they met hers. When the early morning sunlight beamed through her bedroom window, she couldn’t remember if she ever actually closed her eyes or just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

 

Needing to calm her nerves and clear her head, she dressed quickly and snuck out of the house for her early morning run. The run to Sweetwater River often felt like the only peace and calm she got all day. Between school, work and her mother’s appointments those five miles remained the only thing she could control, the only time she had to clear her head.

 

A few hours later, showered and dressed in a pair of jeans, black tank top and soft pink cardigan paired with her favorite pair of leopard print shoes, she found herself back at her place of employment on her one day off the entire week.

 

He was already there- sitting in their usual booth when she pulled into the parking lot, spotting him easily. Her eyes were focused on him as she walked through the door, noticing that he didn’t look up from his laptop as the door chimed behind her. She smiled at Pop Tate behind the counter, laughing softly as he chastised her about not being able to stay away from work. She slid into the booth across from him, but his eyes still stayed focused on his laptop. 

 

“I should have told you about my mom when I had the chance,” her heart skipped when he looked up at her finally, his dark grey eyes taking her breath away.

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“I was ashamed. Moving back here, leaving New York. I felt like I’d failed at everything I’d ever been working towards. Everyone here... they look at me with half smiles and a look that’s somewhere between disappointment and pity. I needed you to see me in the same way you always had- I needed you to believe in me, believe that I could still do great things.”

 

“Betty, you’ve always been my best friend. I’ll always believe in you and support you, no matter what you choose to do.” His hand stretched out across the table to reach for hers, slowly tracing his fingers across the back of hers. “Are you still taking classes?”

 

“I am, I am. Only all online now. I’ve had a few small things published, a couple of book reviews, nothing big like that article on Adderall. It’s been hard- balancing everything,” he twisted her fingers with his, a familiar habit from years ago. Between the two of them - best friends that had always just  _ been _ \- holding hands wasn’t anything more than a gesture of comfort.

 

“I wish I would have known, I would have been there for you. You shouldn’t have to go through all of this alone…”

 

“I wasn’t entirely alone. Your dad, actually…”

 

“My dad, what?”

 

“He’s been really helpful. He makes sure my mom gets out of the house at least once a week for something not related to a doctor’s appointment, even if it’s just a trip to the grocery store. He helps with things around the house- fixing the sink when it broke a few months ago, cleaning out our gutters. When I have an exam or an article due, he takes her to her appointments, so I can have extra time to study. Their friendship is odd, they remind me a lot of us.”

 

“They’ve been together their whole lives, I didn’t think about how hard this must have been on him, too… watching her get sick after everything she’d gone through with your dad.”

 

“He loves her, he’s her person. Even before my dad, it was him. Always.”

 

“Do you think they ever…?”

 

“Oh gosh, no.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

That afternoon, after he’d eaten his body weight in burgers and fries, he sat alone on the old floral couch in his dad’s trailer - beanie discarded on the coffee table, head hanging in his hands. The afternoon’s conversation had brought with it a lot of truths, which had lead to more questions and a faint feeling of betrayal. For the last 3 years, every conversation he’d had with her had been laced with lies and half-truths. His mind left reeling with where to go from here.

 

He knew it wasn’t fair, that he was blaming her for withholding the truth, when he was doing the same to her. In all of the ways that she had not been honest with him, he had not been honest with her. He felt it now, alone in the quiet of the trailer, this dark cloud hanging over him.  _ Tell her the truth, tell her everything. _

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the softness of her bedroom, her body curled into a ball on top of her thick comforter. Tears streamed down her face, spilling over onto her pillowcase and falling into her hair. He had been her rock, her sense of normalcy amongst all the craziness that had become her life. She had tucked her feelings for him high away on a shelf, long ago. She accepted that the dark-haired boy who traveled the states on the back of a motorcycle, didn’t carry the same feelings she had for him. She felt her body shudder as she tried to even out her breathing. She didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to face the truth.

 

_ Tap, tap, tap.  _

 

She rolled, burying her head further into her pillowcase, the soft sound not registering in her mind.

 

_ Tap, tap, tap. _

 

This time, the rapping was louder, pulling her out of her thoughts. She stirred - her eyes struggling to make out the shapes of her bedroom in the dark. Her legs wobbled as she climbed down from the softness of her bed, stepping quietly across the room.

 

Standing there - on the edge of her windowsill, held up by what she could only imagine was a ladder he’d found in her garage. She felt her heartbeat quicken, rushing to open the window, her arms reaching for him, pulling him into her bedroom. His feet tumbled across her window seat, tossing the throw pillows to the floor.

 

“Jug…”

 

His hand reached up to grasp her face, tracing his thumb along her jawline before he pulled her, ever so slightly closer to him, and met her lips with his.

 

Their moment was interrupted before it could become more. At the same moment, her phone chimed softly on the bedside table, his buzzed in his back pocket. She reached for his hand, dragging him across the room and settling onto the edge of her bed. Her heart skipped when she saw the notification on her phone, another truth about to be revealed.

 

A picture of a brunette girl, pearls around her neck, leaning into her side over a small, outdoor café table, it was captioned _Late night gelato with the bestie_ _#nyc nights #best friends #bff._

 

He was pushed so close against her, she could feel his body shake with laughter as he too, glanced at the picture on her screen.

 

“Care to explain to me how Veronica Lodge thinks you’re out in New York with her, while I’m almost positive you’re here with me?”

 

“It was her idea, really. And of course, it’s Veronica, so she’s a bit extra. When I told her, I’d made the decision to not tell you about my mom, about me leaving New York, she vowed to help me keep up the charade. She insists on it, every time I visit the city- photoshoots. Sometimes, people would follow us around, thinking I was some kind of model the way Veronica and Kevin pushed along the rack of clothes. Then, she’d create this elaborate “posting calendar” for us so we were all on the same page and didn’t accidently post the wrong outfit on the wrong day.”

 

“So, you created an elaborate social media campaign to make me believe you were still in New York?” She could almost feel his eyes roll next to her, and she tucked herself in closer to his arm, leaning her head onto his shoulder. She remained silent, there was no use in explaining over again why she had felt the need to keep her life a secret from him, why she had needed him to be her sense of normalcy.

 

“Jug?” They’d sat there in the quiet for a few moments, but something was still nagging her, in the back of her mind. Something she’d mentioned the night before and had been stuck with her all day. Maybe she didn’t really want to know the answer, maybe she already did, but there was a secret he had been keeping from her.

 

“Yeah, Bets,” he didn’t look up when he answered, his eyes scanning across the familiarity of her childhood bedroom. 

 

“When you came home, when you came back to Riverdale, you had to come through New York. Why didn’t you call, why didn’t you stop to see me, if that’s where you thought I was?”

 

She watched, feeling a twist in her stomach, as he shifted - turning his body towards hers, reaching his hand out, his fingers sliding through hers.

 

“You seemed so happy whenever we talked, so happy with your life in New York. You were doing all these really big, great things, and I knew if I came through, if I stopped…”

 

“You’d what, Jug?”

 

“It’s you, Bets. It’s always been you. You are my person…”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I had intended, but Sunday is my birthday, so here's a birthday present from me to you!
> 
> Thanks for all of the love, comments and kudos!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he left again, when once again he loaded up his bike and she watched him drive away–what would her world look like?

The days had rolled into weeks lazily spent on the banks of Sweetwater River, snuggled into a booth at Pop’s after her shift, or half asleep on the floral couch watching yet another Tarantino film. They had fallen into their own little routine together, each day so similar to the one before. 

 

It was on a Tuesday morning, after a night spent curled into his side watching both volumes of Kill Bill, that the thoughts started to creep into her brain. This- these stolen kisses and dreamy day dates, movie nights on his dad’s old couch - was fleeting. She could feel it–this little routine of theirs was careening towards a brick wall. This, these moments, weren’t permanent. She was struggling to remind herself that he was only passing through, that his life wasn’t here anymore, not like hers was. 

 

She laced up her shoes, heading down to the river once again, trying to find some clarity in the middle of her feelings. The feelings that she had just started to let herself feel for him. They were still skating around each other, neither really sure where to go from here. Because really, where could they go from here?

 

When he left again, when once again he loaded up his bike and she watched him drive away–what would her world look like? After he’d come in and upended it with his kisses and his confessions–could she really go back to wiping tables at the diner, struggling to piece together articles for a college paper that would never be published?

 

She felt like she was running on autopilot, her feet carrying her down the path they traveled every morning. As she rounded a corner, coming into a clearing that overlooked the river, she felt her heart race faster, as she realized she had stumbled upon the one who occupied her thoughts. 

 

 

* * *

  
  


He always found something peaceful and calming about setting up camp. The intricacy  of unpacking his saddlebags, laying out his tent, driving the stakes into the ground. It was something he had done hundreds of times on the road, those nights that he didn’t have to stay in a motel. 

 

He had found his peace in the world, laying under the stars, at one with nature. Maybe that’s what he was searching for now, why he had felt his body craving the comfort of his tent instead of his father’s couch. 

 

Coming back here, he hadn’t expected to see her. He had thought he could pass through, visit his dad and then ride off again, but something had changed in him when he saw her standing there in the dinner his first night back in town. He was struggling to remind himself of the days she didn’t even know that they had left, struggling to find a way to tell her. They had fallen into a little routine over the last few weeks together, but there was a large brick wall looming straight ahead of him. 

 

_ Michigan.  _

 

He knew the sooner he told her, the easier it would be on both of them. He wasn’t sure how she felt, if she wanted to continue their growing friendship when he left, or if this was just a passing moment in their lives. But he needed to tell her. She needed to know. 

 

Settled into a small folding chair that always shocked him when it fit into the saddle bag, he watched the slow rolling river, the small crests falling over the rocks. At first, he didn’t notice that he wasn’t alone in the clearing, but the small kiss she placed on his cheek, the way her ponytail smacked him in the eye, pulled him away from his thoughts. 

 

“Wanna tell me what all of this is?” 

 

“This, Betts, is how I live most of the time I’m on the road. I try not to spend too much money on hotels unless I have to, and camping is mostly free.”

 

“And this all fits in the saddle bags?”

 

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can even fit a small pan and two changes of clothes!”

 

“Oh wow, Jug! Two whole changes of clothes!”

 

“Come on, Bets. I’ll show you how to pack everything up, and then we can grab lunch.”

 

She fumbled over folding the tent, and ended up shoving it roughly into the saddle bag, but she still seemed impressed that everything fit in the end,including that folding chair that still surprised him. Tossing his helmet to her, he turned the bike towards the south end of town, back towards the trailer with hopes of a pizza delivery. 

 

They were hardly out of the woods when the skies above darkened. He could feel the shift in the wind, how fast the temperature dropped around them, and found himself increasing his speed, hoping to beat the storm home. 

 

They didn’t make it. Almost as soon as they crossed over the train tracks into the southside of Riverdale, the clouds above opened up, dumping a torrential rain down on them. Having given her his only helmet, the water was pelting his face directly, making it difficult to see. He pulled over to the shoulder slowly, not wanting to catch a tire on the rocks and spin out.

 

“We’ve got to run for it, Betts.” He helped her off the bike, propping it against a tree.

 

“You’re just going to leave it here?”

 

  
“It’ll be fine, I’ll come back with my dad for it later.” 

 

He grabbed her hand, pulling her to run the short mile to his father’s trailer along beside him. By the time they reached it, they were both soaked to the bone, the rain hadn’t let up at all, and the thunder started just when they were rounding into the trailer park. 

  
  


He grabbed a pair of sweats and a shirt from his clean laundry basket, creating a pile in the bathroom for her on top of a fresh towel. 

 

“I’ll order pizza, supreme? Everything’s in the bathroom for you.”

 

“Thanks Jug.” She tipped up on her toes to kiss him gently before flitting back down the hallway towards the bathroom. 

 

Hours later, bellies full of greasy goodness, they were curled together onto the floral couch, half asleep rewatching  _ The Shining _ . Her breathing was shallow against his arm that was wrapped around her chest. She was wearing his clothes and smelled like his body wash, and in that moment he didn’t think he could ever leave her again. 

 

“Betts.”

 

“Jug?” Her voice came out raspy, like she had already fallen asleep and been woken up. He moved his body, pulling her up to sit next to him. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, it had dried half wavy and falling over her shoulders. As beautiful as she looked, partly awake and entirely confused, he had to tell her. She needed to know. 

 

“My next job is in Michigan.”

 

“Oh! I bet it’s so beautiful this time of year!”

 

“It is. So I hear. Summer is their biggest tourist season.”

 

“So you’re doing a tourism campaign?” He could almost see it, the gears in her head putting together the pieces. 

 

“I am.”

 

“Juggie. When do you leave?” 

 

“I have two weeks.”

 

* * *

 

  
  


She knew it was coming. She’d known it was coming since she’d turned around and seen him again in the diner. He didn’t live here anymore, he traveled for work. He was here now, but he wouldn’t be here always. Eventually, he would leave her, and she would still be here. 

 

She felt like she’d been hit with a ton of bricks, and she found herself struggling to catch her breath. She felt her body slide over further on the couch, already placing distance between them. 

 

“Betts. Say something.” His voice was pleading, begging her to tell him how she felt. 

 

“These weeks have been great, Jug. Spending time together...whatever  _ this _ is. But I think we both knew this had an expiration date from the start…”

 

“ _ Whatever this is? _ This is everything to me, Betty.  _ You _ are everything to me.”

 

She felt her heart sink into her stomach and she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. 

 

“I know I have to leave, but I don't think I can leave you behind again, Betts…”

 

Her mind was racing, her breath caught in her throat. This was what she'd been hoping for, for him to define what he wanted from  _ this _ , but now that he had, her mind was filling with panic. 

 

“The storm stopped. I should probably go home.”

 

“Or you could stay.” His hand reached out towards her, grazing along the top of her knee. “I think you should stay.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
  


The sun was only starting to come up, but as she snuck into her childhood home, she still felt full of bliss. The night had been everything–confessions and promises and learning about one another. She clicked the lock behind her, turning to softly walk upstairs to catch some sleep before her afternoon shift. 

 

“Elizabeth.” She heard a voice call softly from the kitchen and stepped down the hallway. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, two cups of coffee still steaming in front of her. “Sit down, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies on the delayed update, but thank you for all of the love, comments and kudos
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glancing around the house, all she saw was Hal. Even through the new paint and the new couch, even though she'd taken down all of his pictures, his life still radiated through this space. No amount of redecorating would ever erase the memory of Sheriff Keller arresting her husband for the murder of three people. The memory of her perfect white-picket-life crashing down around her.

There are certain days she knew she’d never forget. The day she married Hal Cooper. The day her family moved to the Northside of Riverdale. The day she was diagnosed. The day Hal was arrested. The second day of the first year both of her daughters were in school, when Betty rounded the corner, flanked by the Andrews boy who lived next door, and an unfamiliar boy whose dark hair flopped from under a gray beanie.

 

She remembered the laughter as the three approached the house, but soon took notice of the dirt on her youngest daughters white skirt, the scrape on her knees. She pulled the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, pouring each child a glass of milk as they all clamored up to sit at the large oak table, retelling her the story of how Chuck Clayton had pushed her down on the playground, and how _‘Archie and Juggie were there to protect me.’_

 

It was then, that the small boy in the gray beanie had looked up to thank her for the cookie. He brushed a lone curl off his forehead, steel grey eyes staring back at her, and she’d felt her breath catch in her throat.

 

She watched them, over the years, as the two grew up side by side, a constant reminder of her own childhood next to her own Jones boy. The more time the small boy spent at her house, the more she noticed the similarities between him and his father. Both were dreamers, with imaginations that would run wild and could tell stories all afternoon. Both had a profinity to coffee, and preferred burgers to chicken.

 

And both had blonde girls who loved them from afar.

 

Things hadn’t been the same for her growing up as they’d been for her daughters, she’d made sure of that. Where her daughters were enrolled in dance and cheerleading and straight A students, she had spent her childhood at the park next to the trailer on the swings with a dark bottle passed between her and her dark haired friend.

 

They’d grown up next to each other, their fathers owning a motorcycle repair shop together, when they weren’t spending their time together at the Whyte Wyrm. They were legacies, second generation Serpents, initiated together at 16. Her parents fought a lot, and she’d often climb thru his bedroom window at night, taking solace in the smell of smoke and stale beer that seemed to linger on his sheets. His arm wrapped around her, she’d curl into his side, finding a feeling of safety she didn’t feel at home.

 

They were together always, except for when he was on the football field. His dad had high hopes that it’d lead to a scholarship, enough to get his son out of Riverdale and away from the Serpents. But the night of her 18th birthday, they were arrested for trespassing at Riverdale Elementary school. They’d only broken the gate to sit on the swings, since the set at the trailer park had recently been torn down, but Sheriff Kalanquin wasn’t hearing it - he’d been looking for an excuse to bring in the youngest Serpents for years.

 

Her parents sent her to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy to be _rehabilitated._ His parents sent him to the Army. She still remembered that last day they were together - standing next to him at the bus stop, tears streaming down his face as she squeezed his hand one more time. Words that should have been spoken went left unsaid, as she watched the bus grow smaller and smaller down the highway.

 

Years later, when he first came to the house to pick up his son, she watched from the side as Hal introduced her to the man who used to live next door to her, the man she had grown up with. His face was weathered and hardened, but nothing like it would be in the years to come when things would get even worse with Gladys before she’d finally leave them. She cooked freezer meals, packed an extra lunch for the boy, didn't ask any questions when he slept on her couch. She felt this visceral need to protect him from the sins of his father, providing him a portion of the stability he should have been getting at home.

 

It was only after Hal had been arrested that the two acknowledged their former friendship. The kids were almost finished with high school, but the small group fell into a routine of almost nightly dinners. He did the dishes while she wiped down the kitchen. He helped Betty fix the blue Toyota that really needed a new transmission, and she helped Jughead edit his articles for the Blue and Gold. There had been a point in her life that FP had been her closest friend, and they were slowly finding their way back to that.

 

He had sat next to her, holding her hand in the doctor's office when she got her diagnosis. She hadn't called her girls, she didn't want to worry them until she knew more, but the doctor had suggested she not come alone. He'd held her after the doctor left, her tears soaking his red flannel. _This couldn't be it, she still had so much to she wanted to do._

 

He'd been by her side thru all of her treatments, helping Betty with things at home and making sure she stayed on top of her classes. _And helping her keep the truth from his son._

 

She'd known, since that 2nd day of 1st grade,that her daughter was in love with the younger Jones boy. She'd also known, by the look on her daughters face after she came home from the diner that first night that he'd came back, that those feelings had never faded.

 

Glancing around the house, all she saw was Hal. Even through the new paint and the new couch, even though she'd taken down all of his pictures, his life still radiated through this space. No amount of redecorating would ever erase the memory of Sheriff Keller arresting her husband for the murder of three people. The memory of her perfect white-picket-life crashing down around her.

 

The stack of bills on the counter glared at her, reminding her of what she needed to do. She was formulating a plan, an idea floating through her head. Her heart broke, thinking about all that it would mean, all that she'd be leaving behind. He'd stood by her side over the years, being her rock when everything shattered around her. Maybe years ago they could have been more, but life had taken over and they wouldn't ever be anything more than the closest of friends.

 

The coffee pot buzzed as she walked back into the kitchen, pulling down two mugs as she reached for the creamer in the refrigerator. She was well aware that her daughter had not slept in her bed the night before, and she was well aware of where she'd actually been. With the Jones boy, who would soon be leaving everything behind again.

 

She heard the car pull into the garage, heard the keys push into the lock as she sat at the kitchen table.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a change in her daughter's face as she moved into the seat across from her. It was early, the sun barely making its presence known, but the young girls face radiated. She didn't need to ask where she'd stayed the night before, or why she'd been coming home so early, the small smile on her daughter's face gave her all the answers she needed.

 

“Elizabeth. ” The way that small smile faltered as she slid the coffee mug towards her daughter, gave her everything she needed.  “Sit down. There's something I need to talk to you about.”

 

“Mom?”

 

“I've been thinking about this for a while, years now actually. And it's time.”

 

“Time for what, mom? What's going on?”

 

“I've decided to sell the house. There's too many memories here, it's been paid off for years, I can use the money to pay off the rest of my medical bills. Try and find a fresh start.” She wasn't one prone to rambling or trailing thoughts, but trying to explain everything to her youngest daughter found her doing just that.

 

She'd spent hours over the years going over her choices, weighing her options. Maybe if she'd sold the house sooner, downsized to something smaller, her daughter wouldn't have had to work at the diner. But there was a part of her that was selfish, clinging to her old self, the perfect white-picket-life she'd longed for growing up on the other side of the tracks.

 

Seeing the sparkles dance in her daughter's eyes, seeing her laugh in a way she hadn't in years, had made the decision final for her. This boy, this Jones boy, that had rolled back into town had changed everything. She'd robbed her daughter of happiness before, robbed her of the life she should have had.

 

“Elizabeth. You've let me hold you back for too long. It's time to let this go, sweetie. It's time to move on.”

 

“If you sell the house, where will you go?”

 

“I was thinking San Francisco sounded nice, spend time with Polly and the twins. Start fresh someplace new…”

 

“What about me? If you go to San Francisco, where do I go?”

 

“With him, Betty, like you should have all those years ago. Don't let this chance pass you up again… “

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience waiting on this update! I've been sitting on this chapter for weeks, and I'm hoping you like the different perspective.
> 
> I also started grad school and that's been eating all of my free time and all of my energy.
> 
> As always, thank you for the love, comments and kudos! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time the bell chimed above the door, her eyes glanced up, waiting and hoping that he’d arrive to drink coffee, edit pictures and keep her company throughout her shifts.

Every single bone in her body wanted to run back out the door, get in her car and drive back to the trailer. Every single bone in her body wanted to rush into his arms and tell him about how she was essentially inviting herself along on his road trip adventures. Every single bone in her body was aching because, in a few short hours, her double shift at Pop’s would be starting. 

 

She begrudgingly climbed up the stairs, curling into her soft pink sheets and seeking just a few moments of sleep before her shifts began, but her mind was racing. Would he be excited she wanted to leave with him? Did he want her to leave with him? What would her mom do if she got sick again in California- all of her doctors were here in New York. Would Polly be able to take care of her mom and the twins? 

 

Maybe this was all a bad idea. Maybe she should just leave this as it is - unrequited love that was for such a very short time, requited. Maybe things would be better like this, both leaving Riverdale and going their separate ways. 

 

No. 

 

She wouldn’t let herself continue to doubt his feelings for her. In high school, she’d convinced herself that he only saw her as his friend. After she left for New York, she’d convinced herself that he was only ever going to be her friend. When her mother got sick and she moved home, she’d convinced herself that he would only ever be her friend. 

 

After laying in her bed for just over an hour, she finally conceded defeat and came to the conclusion that sleep was not in her plans before her shifts began. She climbed out of her bed and wandered into her attached bathroom, pulling from the cabinets her favorite bath salts and some lavender scented candles - creating for herself a little oasis to calm her nerves. 

 

Because in truth, she was. Nervous that is. Only hours before had they confessed their feelings, even though the night before felt days instead of hours ago. And now, here she was, already plotting out pit stops they’d make along the road, dreaming of day adventures they’d go on, and planning out blog posts. 

 

In the end, she hadn’t asked for his permission, hadn’t even called him to tell him, she’d simply emailed her university and notified them she’d be completing her classes online starting that fall, and emailed her journalism professor to ask about compiling a blog of their travels in place of an internship. Her plans set in motion, she dressed for work, slipping out the door with a smile on her face and her hair piled high on her head. 

 

Every time the bell chimed above the door, her eyes glanced up, waiting and hoping that he’d arrive to drink coffee, edit pictures and keep her company throughout her shifts. She was so anxious to see him, to tell him of her new plans, that when he did finally step through the door and sit down on a stool at the counter, her hands were shaky as she poured him a cup of coffee, splashing a little bit on the countertop. 

Her mind flashed back to that first night he’d stepped back into Pop’s after arriving in Riverdale, the first time she’d seen him in over three years. Had it really only been a few weeks? So much had changed in that short amount of time. Everything was different now, as she wiped up the small spill and noticed how his smile beamed at her. There was a hint of sparkle in his eyes like he was plotting something. 

 

“Jug…” she’d started to speak, started to tell him everything that had transpired over the course of her morning, over the few short hours since she’d left the trailer, but his voice cut her off. His hand reached over the counter to grasp her arm, tugging her slightly towards the door. 

 

“Can you take a break? There’s something I want to show you.” 

 

She quickly ran down her tables, thankful everyone had just gotten a refill or had a few more minutes before their food would be up. With maybe ten minutes to spare, she let Pop know she was stepping outside and followed him out the door. 

 

“Close your eyes, it’s a surprise.” His hand squeezed hers tightly, pulling her across the parking lot to where she knew he usually parked his bike. 

 

“Jug, this is silly. I’m going to trip and fall.”

 

“You’re safe, I’ve got you. No peaking.” 

 

The sound of gravel crunching beneath her feet and his strong grip on her hand did nothing to calm her nerves. For as much as Betty adored planning surprises, she was not happy to be on the receiving end and his insistence to keep her eyes closed was not helping her current mood situation. 

 

“Ok. Before you open them, know I don’t want you to feel pressured to make a decision. I just want you to know you have options.”  _ Options.  _ His words sounded ominous, again, not doing anything to help her current mood situation. “Open them.”

 

Sitting there, on the back of his bike, wrapped in a large red bow, was a beautiful brand new, shiny light pink motorcycle helmet, with a small crown design etched unto the side. 

 

“Jug, what is this?” Her voice shook, unsure if it was excitement or nervousness or a hint of both. 

 

“This is me, asking you to come with me when I leave. Asking you to travel the country on the back of my bike.”

 

The heart that was in her stomach burst through her throat as tears welled in her eyes. 

 

“Oh, Jug.” His hand fell from hers as she reached to pick up the helmet, turning it over in her hands. 

 

“It’s too soon. I’m sorry… your mom…” He was rambling and she wondered if he’d spent his morning in a ball of nerves just as she had. 

 

“Jughead Jones. I would love to travel the country on the back of your bike.”

 

* * *

  
  


Hearing her say those words felt like a wave of relief. All of the nerves he’d carried with him in the hours since she’d left his house, washed out of him in that single, solitary moment. 

 

He’d decided on the helmet almost as soon as she’d left that morning, once he’d gone with his dad to pick his bike up from where they’d left it the night before. He’d gone straight to the Harley Davidson dealership in Centerville, called in a favor and gotten the detailing done while he waited. He was nervous, this wasn’t something they’d talked about and he wasn’t even sure if it was feasible between her mom’s health and her school work. 

 

And then there was the whole -  _ if she’d actually want to go with him _ \- factor. For all he knew, she’d smile politely and tell him “no, thank you”, that these last few weeks had been just her passing the time. 

 

But she hadn't. She’d said yes. And then she’d spent the rest of her double shift supplying him with burgers and fries as she told him about the plans she’d made over the course of her morning. Her mom’s plans to sell the house and move to California, emailing her professors and her ideas about a travel blog. How she’d planned to ask him if she could come along before he asked her to. 

 

She wanted to leave Riverdale with him, as much as he wanted her to leave Riverdale with him, and that was certainly not something he’d expected when he pulled into town. He’d thought it’d be a short visit, a few days with his dad, a few burgers from Pop’s, and then he’d be back on the road. He’d not planned on pulling into the diner and reuniting with her, confessing his long-hidden feelings and find them reciprocated. He’d not planned on her falling back into his life in the way that she had, not planned on this. 

 

He quickly realized she’d already managed to very precisely map out a tour of the Michigan coastline, with a few stops to some inland towns, one that apparently was a small German village that was famous for a “The World’s Largest Chrismas Store” and chicken dinners. His travels had always been dictated by a job, by where his photography needed him to be, where he could get that picture or series that he could sell to survive until the next picture or series. But with her, he knew his ramblings would be a little more detailed and less “free bird.”

 

A few short days later,  a “For Sale” sign hung in the front yard of the Cooper home, boxes sorted into boxes to donate and boxes to load into a U-Haul that would soon make its trek west. His motorcycle was parked in the driveway, saddlebags loaded full with four pairs of clothes, two foldable chairs, two sleeping bags, his tent, and his small pan. Their little world that had been Riverdale had been purged and condensed, because what was once home, was home no longer. 

 

Sure, a part of them would always be in Riverdale, because the town was as much a part of them as they were of it. But as she buckled the pink helmet over her loose braid and climbed on the bike behind him, curling her arms tight around his waist, he thought that maybe the road that had lead him to Riverdale wasn’t the road that was leading him home anymore. Because at that moment, as they passed the sign that said: “ _ You are leaving Riverdale- Come back soon! _ ” it struck him suddenly that  _ home _ was no longer Riverdale, but wherever she was. And whatever road they road on, so long as they were together, they’d be on the road home. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update brought to you by the letter “C” - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Coca-Cola, and coffee. Special thanks to @tory-b and @endlesswriter03 for late night/early morning sprinting and motivating me to get this finished!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue, of sorts

The sun started creeping through the trees, but the aches in her body woke her up before the birds. She longed for a warm, soft bed. And a hot shower. It’d been three days since they’d last stopped at a hotel, three nights of sleeping in the now well-worn sleeping bags. Falling asleep next to him under the stars was something she’d once thought she’d never get to do, but as much as there was something to be said about being at one with nature, the same could be said about fresh sheets and a bubble bath.  _ Oh, God. A bubble bath.  _  What she wouldn’t do for an hour-long soak with bubbles up to her nose while a deep conditioning hair mask worked magic on her blonde ends. There was a constant layer of grime and dust on her face and hair, that no amount of washing seemed to clean away. 

 

Her body went through the motions her muscles had long ago memorized. Packing and rolling and compacting. It still surprised her how much fit in the saddlebags, still surprised her that those folding chairs fit into the tiny storage space. 

 

Once the bags were packed and secured, she climbed onto the bike, sliding into her space behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. This, she would never get over. The feel of their bodies pressed so closely together, even after all the other ways they’d pressed their bodies together. This required a complete trust in one another, and she felt a calm wash over her as he guided his bike towards the small town they’d driven through the night before. 

 

Over a cup of coffee and an omelet, it was hard not to think back on their adventures over the past few months. 

 

Michigan had been beautiful- miles of coastline, sandy dunes, and small towns. They’d filled their summer months with day trips to wineries, hiking trails to reach colored rock formations, and watching fudge be made. Limited space required them to eat all of the fudge they’d bought in one day, and although her stomach hurt from all the sugar, peanut butter with chocolate chips was decidedly her favorite. 

 

She had been pleasantly surprised by the response to her blog. Almost instantly, strangers from all over the country and the world were commenting and recommending places to stay or visit. And it didn’t help at all that people had become invested in the story behind the scenes, the slow burn love story of two childhood best friends. 

 

They’d planned on spending a month in Toledo with his mother and sister before heading south to spend Thanksgiving in Nashville with Archie. But the month with his mother had been painfully awkward, and she constantly felt like she was in the way. Gladys Jones was not maternal by nature, and although Betty had offered to help in the junkyard to earn their stay, she’d never really felt like they were welcome. Although Jughead enjoyed the time with Jellybean - it’d been years since they’d seen each other - there was only so many backhanded comments about how “it must be nice to not having any responsibilities and just ride around on a motorcycle” she could handle, and so they’d decided to leave for Nashville a full week before they’d originally planned. 

 

Country music was decidedly not Jughead Jones scene, but watching him try to learn to line dance was an experience she’d never forget. His long legs kicked and twirled in a way she’d never seen before, and her stomach was constantly knotted from laughing so hard. 

 

It had been too long since they’d all been together - the original three that had taken the streets of Riverdale by storm - but they quickly fell into a routine together. Archie had made quite a name for himself among the smaller bars, and so many of their nights were spent over whiskey and cokes, crammed around a small table. Their days were spent lazily, enjoying the break from the road - sleeping in late, lunches that lasted all afternoon, and countless video games. The boys grumbled when she insisted on a  _ Homes of the Stars Tour _ , but they loaded up unto the bus with a dozen other strangers and pressed their faces to the glass trying to see inside the large, curtained windows. 

 

Thanksgiving was spent trying to cram a turkey into the oven in Archie’s apartment. Maybe she should have planned this better, maybe they should have ordered take out, but she had been determined to cook a traditional meal for the boys. Turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green bean casserole and she’d only managed to burn the pumpkin pie. Loaded up with whip cream to mask the burnt taste, you couldn’t really tell, and the entire pie was gone before  _ Planes, Trains and Automobiles _ was finished. 

 

They left the day after, with promises to not go years before seeing each other again, and enough leftovers in Archie’s fridge to last a few days, at least. Turning the bike west, they'd continued on their journey. 

 

They spent a week in San Antonio- the shops and restaurants along the river kept calling her name, filling her with this sense of peace. They’d learned to salsa dance at the Jazz Texas, spent an entire day exploring the missions and the Alamo, and she’d even convinced him to take a Segway tour of the city. Watching him tip backward after colliding with a park bench was a memory she’d never forget. 

 

A week later, the bike was packed and loaded again and they continued their trek west. The temperatures in the desert dropped too low to be sleeping outside, so they stopped in hotels when they could. She found it was much easier for night-time activities when they were sharing the same bed, versus crammed into the same sleeping bag. 

 

The Grand Canyon was everything he’d told her it was, and so much more. Standing there on the rim, staring out across the large gap, her heart broke. Her dad. Leaving Jughead without telling him how she felt. Her mom getting sick. Lying to Jughead. Leaving New York. All of her late-night shifts at Pop’s. The look on his face when she turned around to pour his coffee. She had never imagined her life would turn out like that, and then in a matter of a few months, everything had changed. Just a few months ago, she was wondering if she’d ever leave Riverdale if she’d ever finish college and get published again. And now, here she was- on the precipice of the Grand Canyon with the love of her life, a popular travel blog and as of earlier that morning, an opportunity to publish their travels in  _ Travel America _ . Apparently, word had spread about the two friends-turned-lovers who were also a photo-journalism combo. 

 

Their little road trip had opened up a world of possibilities for them. A world beyond the motorcycle and the overpacked saddlebags. Quite literally, the entire world. 

 

A movement out of the corner of her eye pulled her back into the moment, back to their reality. The waitress, stopping by the refill their coffees and drop off the bill. 

 

“Come on, Bets. I know you’re tired, but it's only a few hours. And then you can get that bubble bath and nap I know you’ve been dreaming of.” His hand reached for her and pulled her from the booth, intertwining their fingers as he stopped at the cash register. 

 

He was right. Three short hours later, their motorcycle pulled into the short driveway of a blue two-story house that overlooked the water. Before she had even climbed off the bike, the red door had swung open and four pattering feet came rushing across the green grass. 

 

“Auntie B! Uncle Jug!” 

 

There was something to be said about the greeting of a five-year-old. Something that warmed her heart and made her thankful their travels had taken her here. As her niece and nephew wrapped themselves around Jughead’s legs, her eyes carried up to the door, where her mother and her older sister stood, beaming smiles on their faces. 

 

California had been good for her mom, a fresh start and sunshine. She’d taken a job for the  _ San Francisco Chronicle _ writing articles related to health and healthy living. It was more laid back then  _ The Register _ had been, she wasn’t running everything by herself and she could submit her articles on her own time. 

 

Before she made it across the green grass towards the front door, her mother and sister parted, a dark-haired man pushing them aside and bounding down the steps. His hand clipped his son on the shoulder as he moved swiftly passed, scooping her up into a hug.

 

“Welcome home, kid!”

 

_ Home.  _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've stuck around to watch me struggle to finish this, I truly appreciate it!
> 
> Thanks for all of the love, comments, kudos, and support during this journey!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


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